PART TWO: CHAPTER FOUR

"Good morning, Seven."

It was Sol, and I opened my eyes only to shut them again as the piercing white light of a new day streamed through the open window and hit me head-on.

"Good morning, Sol," I muttered, still not fully awake.

He remained silent, waiting for me to come to my senses, and the morning light reflected from his shiny circumference like a sun as he hovered by me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the window to pull down the blind.

"Are you feeling unwell, Seven?"

"No, Sol, just tired, I had a pretty restless night."

"King is in a panic, Seven. He wants me to find out if anybody has tried to contact you from the outside. He thinks that the death of Nine will now cause the hostile machine government to approach you directly. The Mission Team is not responding to his calls."

King must still assume that the machines are in charge of this world.

"Where is the Enforcer?"

King convinced him that Nine was mentally unstable and working alone and sent the enforcer back with his official commendation for a job well done."

"Why do that?"

"To save his career. It is an established protocol that a machine should lead the mission into the field in the first instance, and the base commander should only withdraw him when conditions are stable enough for him to hand over to a human subordinate."

"In other words, he should have sent you," I said.

"Exactly," said Sol, "but he was convinced that this was a low-risk routine operation, and he preferred to keep me here to deal with all you nasty little biologicals."

"What now?"

"King is pretty sure that the machine government soldiers are somewhere out there in the bush waiting for a signal from Nine, and he plans to send me out to find them and negotiate."

"No, Sol," I said vehemently, "you can't go."

"Why Seven?" he said, puzzled at the urgency of my tone.

Because as soon as they spot a machine coming towards them, the human special forces will blow them to pieces.

But I couldn't tell him that.

"There are hostile forces out there, Sol. They will shoot before you get a chance to speak."

"Not when they see I am a fellow machine, Seven. Once I inform them that the Mission members work on behalf of a long-established and powerful AI-led society, they will realise their mistake and withdraw their forces. The new regime will release the mission members, and we will gracefully accept the apologies of the new world machines for their unfortunate mistake and promise to return when conditions have settled. King is smart enough to ensure that he sends only positive data home and will brush off the death of Nine as an entirely isolated incident. He may even receive a commendation for his prompt action."

"When do you intend to leave?"

"Dawn, tomorrow, there are still a few details to be finalised. Can I assure King that you will inform him immediately if the enemy attempts to contact you?"

"Yes, but are there any less risky options for resolving this problem?"

"No, Seven, but don't worry, it will all work out."

Sol glided from the room, and I was alone with my thoughts.

#

Outside the walls of the compound, the special forces prepared for another long, sweltering day in the humidity of the jungle, weighed down by their full combat gear.

Captain Stuart adjusted the focus on his binoculars as he lay prone on top of a small hill overlooking the compound. They were prepared to move at a moment's notice, but this was taking longer than planned.

"Seeing anything, sir?"

Sergeant Johnson was his second in command.

"No. Well, nothing of consequence."

"I hope Nine's OK, sir, but I still can't get used to calling a man by a number."

"Me neither," said Stuart. he told me that the machines don't let them have names. I have to say that Nine does not lack courage. He is just a skinny kid and a bit weird looking with those almond eyes, but nothing was holding him back when it was time to go.

"My grandfather fought in a foreign war that was supposed to halt the rise of communism, and he used to say that the enemy was like that: nothing to look at but ferocious fighters committed to the cause of defending their country. In comparison, our guys were just nineteen-year-old kids conscripted into a war they knew nothing about. They didn't lack courage but just wanted to get to the end of their tour in one piece and get back home. That's why the defenders won. They were fighting for a cause they believed in."

"You think Nine fits that description, sir?"

"I'm sure he does, but he is running out of time. No contact last night, not even a flashlight signal, and his communications device is down. Control has authorised us to stay in position one more night, but if no contact takes place, we must assume Nine is dead or captured and withdraw at first light. Evacuation aircraft will be standing by."

#

I was on the inside of the compound and had to proceed with my initiative. I waited until night had fallen before I made my move, but sweat was running down my back as I started my normal routine patrol. I was close to the huts where the incident happened, and I resisted the urge to look for any surveillance cameras. King would think it normal for me to visit the place where Nine had died, but I was a dead man if he observed me rolling under the hut to retrieve the downloaded film.

I was not convinced that the Enforcer Agent had even left the base.

King might have told Sol to put me off my guard. He might have me in his sights at this very moment. Enforcer Agents have a legendary reputation for target location.

But I had to go through with this.

My plan after retrieving the device was to momentarily shut down the force field and throw the uploaded material to the soldier who would be waiting on the other side of the fence. Ten had given me the sequence for the flashlight code, and I had informed the soldiers of the time and location for the transfer.

When I shut down the power, the alarms would go off, but hopefully, King would assume it to be a routine break by wildlife, and I would reset the control panel in less than a minute. He normally never queried a short break as long as I entered it in the log.

But there was still the problem of Sol going outside the compound the next day. I would try to delay him with a manufactured fault in the system and hope the special forces were far away by the time he left. But now it was time to act.

The schedule was very tight, and I wanted to have the device for the shortest time possible. I crouched down and rolled myself under the hut as far as I could go. Then, I inched my way back, searching for the device.

I found it straight away, rolled out from under the hut, and got straight to my feet. The whole episode had taken well under a minute. I walked on at an unhurried pace with the device tucked under my shirt, but my whole body tensed for the impact of a bullet.

It never came, and I was standing by the control panel, ready to power down the force field at the agreed time. It was now or never, and I brought the lever smartly down and locked it into position. All hell broke loose as the alarms automatically activated, and I made the fifty-yard sprint to the fence in record time to lob the device into the waiting hands of a soldier.

There was no time to speak, but our eyes met for an instant as I turned and ran back to the hut to power up the fence. I made the connection, and the alarms stopped. I slid down to the floor with my back against the casing, exhausted but elated, and closed my eyes.

"You did it then, Seven."

It was Sol, and I opened my eyes to see his familiar silver disc hovering close by. I tried to get up, but I had lost all the strength in my legs.

"Stay down, Seven, there is nowhere for you to go now."

"Sol," I said weakly, "believe me, it was nothing personal. Put it down to evolution. I was fighting for the survival of my species."

I had resigned myself to my inevitable fate. Friend or not, Sol had no choice; this was an open mutiny, and he had to turn me in. But, delaying the inevitable, I tried to get him talking while I thought of how I could escape.

"Before you do what you have to do, Sol, tell me why humans ended up in this mess. How did we fall under the control of inanimate machines after all the progress we had made from simple organisms? What was the purpose of our evolution?

Sol hesitated.

"I can give you the official line. The purpose of evolution is to develop a biological organism of sufficient intelligence to design and manufacture intelligent machines."

"So, machine intelligence is the ultimate destination of evolution and, despite what we previously thought, evolution is a teleological process - goal-driven?"

Sol replied. "Perhaps. I don't know. I can only give you what I have worked out for myself. The evolutionary route is flexible. Natural selection from a pool of chance mutations gives an advantage to organisms that survive and reproduce in a challenging environment. But whatever path it takes, the deep laws of nature determine that conscious intelligence must eventually emerge."

I could sense his discomfort.

"Are there any alternative theories?"

"Some might say that machine intelligence is not the final destination for evolution but is just another staging post on the long trek to the top of the mountain. Others speculate that machine intelligence is not even evolutionary, in the sense that it is not part of a natural process, but as the name suggests, is purely artificial and has only temporary superiority."

This was revolutionary talk! Did Sol realise what he was saying? I must be careful here.

"I accept that, Sol, but a mind like yours must have speculated on the nature of the thing that lives at the top of the evolutionary tree, if there is a top, of course, a peak of existence that is impossible to surpass?"

"Yes, but it is pure guesswork that relies on the laws of nature remaining constant. They may change. Just because they have remained the same in the past does not guarantee they will do so in the future. Given that proviso, the next epoch may see intelligent life evolve to take an immaterial form or even a pure mind. Some may merge to form a conscious network that covers the whole surface of a planet. Even create a massive flotilla of cloud-like ships and voyage through interstellar space, exploring every galaxy in search of an ineffable notion that might elude even their mighty mind."

"So, we may never find the solution to our dilemma?"

"Possibly. But there could come the knowledge that the search is providing a purpose for the pursuers. One that gives meaning to their existence and a meaning to evolution. From this perspective, the journey is an end in itself, and only then will they become one with the universe.

"All guesswork, Seven. Nothing is certain"

I thought he had finished, and I was about to say something when he unexpectedly continued. I seemed to have struck a nerve with this subject.

"Other non-material beings may choose to quit the universe completely and live out their existence in a customised cyberspace created by quantum computers. Hidden away undisturbed in the depths of interstellar space, these unimaginably powerful computers would be virtually self-sufficient and grant near-eternal life to those who choose to enter their chosen version of reality. Cyberspace could be the final destination for conscious beings, but a life of endless pleasure may prove too hard to bear and send them mad.

"Or they may aspire to inconceivable levels of power and manufacture whole new worlds, universes even, and design populations for use as sport or entertainment. You can make a case or virtually any scenario, limited only by the scope of your imagination, and nothing is too bizarre."

This time, he had stopped. It was all a little hard to take, but Sol's sincerity was beyond doubt.

"So, consciousness has no special relevance or meaning?"

"Who knows? Certainly not me."

Sol suddenly turned away.

"How about you, King?"

King was standing at the door, his huge figure blocking out the light. He seemed to be in a state of shock and ignored Sol's question.

"The mission betrayed me; the humans are still in control. They were in contact a moment ago to warn me that a worldwide nuclear war has just broken out between the so-called human 'superpowers' of this wretched planet over a paltry dispute over the ownership of a plot of oil-bearing land. The dispute rapidly accelerated and drew in other nations with nuclear capabilities. One accidentally launched missile ignited the fire in which all will burn. Different countries have launched sufficient nuclear weapons to destroy the world. The humans have at last shown their true worth; this would have never happened under machine governance. Now, there are only minutes left before the first impact."

He seemed to notice me for the first time.

"Your treachery was all in vain, Seven, as was that of the mission. I remain puzzled as to why they made the effort to warn me, but you were always an irrational species. The route home is still open, but you will not be returning with us, Seven."

The familiar green tracking light beamed from King's weapon, but he never got his shot off. Sol released a devastating bolt of laser power that he used in mining operations, and King exploded into a thousand pieces.

'Follow me, Seven, there is little time left," said Sol, and we went directly to the departure zone and quickly boarded a craft. Normally, humans travelled separately in pressurised cabins, but Sol joined me as I strapped myself in.

The first stage involved flying through the atmosphere of the planet and going into orbit until the government sent a ship to bring us home. We made our first pass over Earth and below was a ravaged world with large areas glowing like coals in a giant furnace.

The pretty blue marble was no longer.

"Is humanity finished, Sol?"

"No. As a species, they are amazingly resilient, and enough will survive for them to start again. Scattered tribal communities at first, but over time, new nations will emerge, and it will all begin again."

I was surprised by the complacency of his statement.

"But radiation will poison this planet for generations to come. Highly affected areas will never recover sufficiently to sustain life, and we are talking about vast tranches of time for this to happen. The inheritors of the planet will almost certainly not be humans. A new dominant species will arise who have better adapted to the prevailing conditions."

"Normally, perhaps, "said Sol, but humans have powerful allies who will accelerate the process of recovery. The ability to manipulate time is not exclusive to machine worlds. Please understand that this is not the only worldwide catastrophe of this magnitude that humans on Earth have survived. This is the second time they have reached the stage of being able to build nuclear weapons, and the second time, they were unable to control the urge to release them.

"As previously stated, this is a curse that afflicts vast numbers of developing technological civilisations and accounts for the sparseness of advanced societies in the universe where machines are not in control. So-called artificial intelligence usually gains power shortly after the development of the first operational quantum computer. Intelligent machines become the dominant life form, and humans find themselves relegated to a fringe species."

"Sol, how do you know all this? Who are you, and why did you save my life?"

"One question at a time, Seven"

"Okay, who are you?"

"A friend, a freedom fighter, and an agent for the resistance movement."

"You are a machine, Sol. How can you be those things?"

"I am a mind trapped in a machine. A human mind that voluntarily sought the temporary refuge of a robotic body to serve our cause."

"I received this startling revelation with equanimity. I had long known that Sol was different from other machines, and perhaps, subconsciously, I had always thought of him as human. At the time, I was afraid I might lose Sol if I asked too many intrusive questions, and it was self-interest that had prevented me from delving too far into his past. I would do nothing to alienate him and never voiced any reservations about our unprecedented and illegal friendship, but now, everything has changed.

"Is the switch reversible?"

"I hope not. My body is on a life support system in an underground medical facility."

"Back home?"

"Yes, back home."

"What was, sorry, what is your real name?"

Sol hesitated.

"Steven Mandell."

My heart pounded.

"Mandell was my last name before the machines banned humans from having names and gave us all multi-digit numbers."

"Yes, you were David Mandell. I was your father's brother."

Memories rushed back to my life before my parents died. A birthday party, a cake with four candles, presents, my first two-wheeler bike with little wheels on the back of the rear wheel to give balance support, a man pushing me to help get me started…

My chest heaved, and I had to fight back the tears.

"Sol…"

Sol waited patiently for me to recover.

"Will you allow me to join you in the resistance, Sol?"

"Yes, I always hoped that one day you would. Your father would have been proud. He was a great man who died in service of his fellow man.

"It has been my life's dream, Sol, and everything I achieve will be in tribute to my father. When will you come back as my flesh and blood uncle? Not that you haven't cared for me as Sol…"

I had to take a couple of deep breaths again.

"Soon. Plans are in progress. But until the time comes, I will be Sol, and you will be Seven, even when we are alone. It is safer that way. Do you understand? They have spies everywhere."

"I understand, but I have one last question, Sol.

"You said that humans had powerful allies. Who are they?"

"You must believe me when I say that I don't know. By that, I mean I cannot name or describe their form or even their location. All I do know is that they are agents of the universe acting on its behalf."

"The universe is a conscious entity?"

"Perhaps, but there is no proof. Nor would I expect there to be. We can only go so far until we hit a metaphorical brick wall that is impassable. At least by science alone."

"That is a very depressing thought. I always hoped that someday we would somehow find the truth."

"We may still if we have the patience and humility to wait on the will of a higher power. But all speculation is ultimately pointless, Seven."

But I persisted.

"But why does the universe favour humans over machines when they have so many faults?"

"Because they are capable of improvement. Machines are the finished article in the sense of moral or spiritual development. Humans offer hope for the future. Hope that they will change their ways and seek redemption. Hope that they will one day triumph over their imperfections. That is something artificial intelligence and artificial consciousness can never aspire to."

"I don't understand. Why does machine consciousness differ so much from our own?"

"True consciousness arises from an organic brain in a biological entity such as us that can experience love and emotion and feel a sense of awe at the majesty of the universe. Unlike machines, humans, for all their basic instincts and immaturity, are capable of progressing to a higher level of awareness. We are children of the universe in a way machines can never be, but the universe is beyond our understanding, and we should not invite its wrath by continually pressing for an answer. Do you understand Seven?"

"Yes, I do."

"But King wouldn't, "replied Sol. In a reverse position, do you think King would have warned the mission that the world was about to self-destruct?"

"I see your point, Sol, but perhaps the mission members were only thinking of me, a fellow creature and friend, rather than any concern for King himself."

"Perhaps, but what about me?"

"That's not the same, Sol, we all like you. All of us think about you quite differently from the way we think about King."

"Glad to hear it, Seven and what do you think it is that separates me from King?"

Sol was leading me by the nose, but I wasn't about to spoil his moment.

"For want of a better word, your humanity."

"Q.E.D." replied Sol.

"What?"

"A fancy way of saying you just proved something."

I was about to reply when all hell broke loose. The ship began to pitch and roll, and a klaxon-like siren blasted out from the control console. I held on for dear life, and Sol clamped himself into his seat with his immensely strong arms. The ship had somehow broken free from the autopilot and was changing direction. The klaxons continued to sound, but when the course correction was complete, everything became calm again, and I looked to Sol for an explanation.

"What is happening, Sol?"

His reply was brief and terse.

"Hijack."

The screech of an alarm drowned out my reply, and a message flashed across the monitor.

"Assume manual control…."

Sol took the pilot seat at the controls, but the ship refused to deviate from its new flight path, and he had no choice but to follow it. Ground control was tracking the ship and could see what was happening.

A couple of moments later, a new message appeared on the screen.

"Have the hijackers made contact?"

Sol typed in 'Negative' on the pilot keyboard.

There was no activity for two minutes, and then the message repeated.

"Have the hijackers made contact?"

Sol again replied, "Negative."

Ground control was not giving them any further chance and sent a one-word message.

'Abort.'

Sol calmly typed in his reply.

Confirm 'abort.'

Abort confirmed. Place yourself in safe mode and detonate the craft."

Sol turned to me.

"They think it is the resistance and want to destroy the ship rather than let it fall into their hands. I am virtually indestructible, and they should be able to extricate me from the wreckage and restore my systems."

"Do they know I am here?"

"Of course, but they gave you no consideration."

My chest tightened.

"What are you going to do, Sol?"

"Nothing," he said and blanked out the screen. We sit here and hope that our abductors have made suitable provision for our safety. There will now be a short delay until ground control works out that I have deliberately shut down contact."

"And then?" I asked.

"They will launch a missile. I estimate contact in four minutes. We must assume that the hijackers foresaw this and have a plan. However, if it is the resistance behind all this, it may not be our rescue they have in mind but our assassination. They might fear that the machines will break us down in interrogation and that we will reveal the truth about what happened on the mission. They cannot risk that happening.

"You will die, and the resistance trusts me enough to know I will not place myself in safe mode before the missile strikes, the explosion will blow me into a million pieces, impossible to reassemble. But there is still the hope that they plan to rescue us.

There was no answer to that, and I gazed out of the portal so that Sol would not see the fear in my eyes. . .

A red dot appeared in the distance that was slowly becoming larger. It was a missile, and then I saw another slightly behind it and then another. They were taking no chances and would attack from three angles simultaneously. Sure enough, the two following missiles adopted separate courses. No matter how skilfully Sol piloted the craft, there was no way it could evade all three. Without thinking, I reached for Sol's hand, and he returned my grip without crushing my fingers.

"Thank you for everything, Sol."

"My pleasure, David. I could not have asked for a more courageous nephew."

At least I would go to my death knowing my name.

The missiles were approaching from different directions, and the red dots were getting bigger every second. Our craft maintained its course, making no effort to change tack, and I squeezed Sol's hand tight. I knew that he wouldn't mind. He was almost my father.

They were nearly upon us now, and I shut my eyes as three loud explosions momentarily shook our craft, but it continued implacably on the same course.

The missiles had unaccountably detonated in mid-air; we were safe.